Loving Thy Neighbor (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Carol McKenzie

  "This way."

  She looks good. As she walked ahead of him through the immaculate, clean-smelling home, he noted her slender hips. Her white eyelet blouse sported little holes. When she stopped, turned his way and pointed into a small back room that held a washing machine and dryer, he noticed that the thin material revealed a low-cut bra. It would take no effort at all to undo in back with a nimble twist of my fingers. Her coral shorts fit her well. He envisioned his splayed hands running up her mocha-colored, smooth legs.

  "I'm sorry to be a bother."

  "Believe me, you're not. I was looking for an excuse to not paint a bedroom." He nodded and flashed a smile. "Any time you need help, just call."

  "Is it on?"

  "No, I turned it off."

  "Okay. Let's see what you've got."

  "I knew you're the Maintenance Foreman at the plastics plant and thought maybe you could tell me what it needs."

  "I'm not much on heating and refrigeration, but it doesn't hurt to look." Charley stepped up to the breaker box, opened the door and flipped the AC switch to the on position. "I'll be right out here." He strode out the back door and went around to the side of the house where the unit clanged and clanked. It was a gray, metal unit that occupied a concrete pad, located beside her house, but sat between their houses. Upon first inspection he learned that the fan spun, which he believed to be a good sign...or a bad sign too, what ever way he wanted to look at it.

  Nora stayed inside, but she opened a window over his head, peered out and yelled, "It's running, but it's not throwing out cold air. It's making a noise."

  "Yep, that it is."

  Glad she called him to help, he grinned as he looked up at her from under the bill of his hat. I enjoy this. "Maybe the dirt needs to be cleaned out of the filters. If it's something more, you'll need a professional."

  Her brow rumpled, as she looked down at him.

  He knelt and unscrewed the metal guard plate. "Want me to shut the power off?"

  "Yeah, I'll get the hose."

  Charley worked for the better part of an hour, without making any headway. She peered down at him from the open window. "It's still not cooling."

  "You'll have to have a refrigeration man come over." He cocked his head to one side and frowned. "I'm just not able to fix it."

  "Well, thanks for looking at it. I appreciate it. It'll probably not be fixed for two or three weeks."

  "They're busy, I take it?" he said in a sarcastic tone.

  "Yeah," Nora said as she slumped and frowned.

  He stood up and stepped back from the air conditioner. "I'm sorry. I just wish I could've helped."

  "It's hot as Hades in here. I could set up a tent maybe out back and sleep in that."

  He laughed, finding the idea of her sleeping outdoors in a tent in her own backyard out of the question. "A tent? He could also see it happening in his own bedroom. "Why not my extra bedroom?"

  She nodded. "Oh?"

  Not wanting to seem too forward, or scare her, he offered, "Sleep in my spare bedroom. I'll fix supper."

  "Charley..." she softly said, "I couldn't put you out."

  "You wouldn't."

  "Are you going to work tonight?"

  "I'm on vacation."

  "Oh really?"

  "Come over anytime you want."

  "Well, okay, I just may. Thanks."

  Chapter Seven

  Nora retrieved a pair of pajamas, a robe and panties from a drawer as she complained to herself. I'm dying in this God awful heat. The air temperature inside topped out at eighty-five degrees, according to the thermostat in the hallway, she noticed on her way to the bathroom.

  Ugh, I'll need to take another bath. She opened the medicine chest. Where's my new jar of face cream?

  The phone jangled.

  "Oh," she said and closed the chest door. Carrying the white jar, she nabbed the handset off its base with her free hand and brought it to her ear. "Hello?"

  "This is Ruth, kid."

  Nora pictured her smiling, warm face as she put the jar down and switched the phone to the other ear. "Hi ya Ruth. Hold on a sec." She grabbed the newspaper on the night stand and fanned herself. "How is the family?"

  "Just fine. Say listen, the reason I'm calling is because I saw a guy sitting parked in a white car in front of your house. He did it for over thirty minutes. Uh, he's gone now, but I thought I should say something. You know him?"

  Nora paused a moment, opened her eyes wide in surprise and blinked. "He did?" She swiveled her head and peered at the window. "Oh, no." It's him again.

  "I just wondered."

  "A white car, eh? A Mercury or maybe? Or a Taurus something like mine?"

  "I believe so. Yeah."

  Perplexed, she raised the fan and a finger to her brow. "It's the same guy, I'll bet, that I called the police on not so long ago."

  Nora fanned her hot face, dropped the newspaper and sank to the edge of the cornflower-blue, soft bed, disturbed. "A few weeks back I called twice, but he was always gone by the time they got here."

  "The next time I see him, I'll give you a call. I'd hate to call the cops on your company. Soliciting is not allowed out here."

  "I appreciate that. Oh...if you need to call me, use my cell phone number. I won't be home part of the time. It's 333-4778."

  "I sure will."

  "This is so freakin’ weird."

  "I'll say."

  "Well, I'd better go. The natives are restless, waiting for their dinner. See ya later, kid."

  "Bye."

  * * * *

  On her way to Charley's house, the wet, cut grass tickled Nora's sandal-clad feet. She willed herself to maintain a cool facade, though her heart beat like a tom-tom. Rounding his neatly trimmed hedge, she walked up the sidewalk and passed by the front window, the entire time aware that he could see her arrival through the window.

  A few minutes after seven, shadows stretched east on the golden yards and houses. She stood on his front step and her hand trembled even though she willed herself to settle down.

  A lazy early evening, no one stirred, it seemed. The neighbors' cars and trucks were either in the garage or their owners were away. Thank God that mystery car isn't here.

  She raised her hand and rapped the brass door knocker twice, clearing her throat, wondering if she should also ring the door bell. I don't want to appear all shook up over this. A second or two later, Sawyer's chiseled, face appeared and flashed an award-winning smile.

  He must have bolted for the door.

  "Please, come in." Charley opened the door wider and stepped back. "Welcome to my humble abode."

  Nora stepped onto a mat and wiped the soles of her sandals, remembering she'd just crossed his newly watered and mowed lawn. The earth colored decor struck her as masculine. The aroma of his grandma's pot roast filled the air and seemed incongruous with the contemporary furnishings and accessories. Rust and beige accent pillows rested on the chestnut brown sofa and arm chair.

  His clean scent of Old Spice wafted her way and held her captive for a moment. Her eyes dropped after their gazes met. He reached behind her and closed the door.

  "The food smells delicious. Oh, and the air conditioning feels so good."

  "Thanks. Where are my manners?" He rubbed the palms on the apron he wore, took her bag and carried it down the hallway. "This way, please."

  Nora bit her lip as he started toward the hallway. His nice ass, encased in tight knee jeans, caught and held her attention.

  "You're in for a treat," he said.

  "My sandals got wet in the grass. So I should probably take them off."

  "No, don't do that. You won't hurt this rug. I'm remodeling and the carpet is going."

  "Okay." She began following him and muttered a curse at her own nervousness, only she could hear through her teeth.

  "I'll show you your room. I was going to give you a bedroom downstairs, but as I told you earlier, I’m in the process of painting and refurnishing it. I hope you don't mi
nd taking this one. I'm sorry, but it's next to my room."

  She glanced toward the open door, wondering if she'd ever run into him in the hall or see him naked. How embarrassing that would be. Just how would I handle that? Crap.

  He brought her out of her worries saying, "I can't wait for you to taste this recipe."

  "Where is she now?"

  "My mom?"

  "Yeah."

  "Oh, I guess you wouldn't have known. She passed away...last December."

  Her mouth dropped. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

  In soft and quiet words, he said, "It's okay. Cancer took her."

  "Aw. That's too bad."

  After clearing his throat and blinking a couple of times, he put the case down in an immaculate, decorated, olive green bedroom that contained heavy-legged oak poster bed, dresser with a tall mirror and chest of drawers. "This room will be yours."

  Clearly, he’s shaken. "Nice." It was as pretty as any she showed for Crumley's Realty. "I'm sorry that I—"

  "Please. Don't let it worry you." His mood lightened as he showed her several empty drawers and closet space complete with hangers. "Go ahead and get settled in. Have a look around. I know you've not been in here for ages, that I can remember. There's a shower across the hallway."

  "I see. Thanks."

  Nora looked down at her wriggling fingers and then up at him. "I appreciate this, Charley." She put her purse down.

  He reached out very slowly brought her close and wrapped his arms around her in a friendly hug.

  I know what's on his mind and look at me, I'm staying. Or, is this a brotherly hug, and I'm taking it wrong? Probably. "Oh..."

  "Think nothing of it," he cooed. "I can't imagine sleeping in ninety degree heat." He chuckled.

  Nora gazed at his kissable lips, unable to imagine choosing a motel. He let go, backed out of the bedroom and ambled down the hallway.

  "The AC feels so good and the room looks inviting," she said. ...like Charley.

  "I'll be in the kitchen." Remaining the perfect host, he said in Spanish, "Me casa su casa."

  "Thanks, Charley." Her blood surged through her body.

  An hour after they'd eaten, they went down to the rec room and sat on the soft sofa side by side. He sipped a beer and she drank a Diet Coke. An unmistakable look of desire glinted in his eyes, at the same time his voice turned husky. Reaching toward her, he brought her hand into his lap. "I just want you to know, I care about you. I always have."

  She swallowed hard. "I—me too, for you."

  Chapter Eight

  Later while relaxing on the couch, Charley gazed into her eyes. He barely noticed that the television whispered in the background. He dimmed the three-way bulb. The knobby cloth of the soft upholstery brushed against his skin as he slid his arm behind her shoulders. With his other hand, he raised a finger to her chin.

  "Are you feeling better now that your, uh—?" His voice trailed off because he didn't want to bring up anything that would upset her.

  "After my divorce, you mean?"

  “Yes.”

  "Yeah, I'm fine now." She let out a long breath, looked away and patted the armrest. Resting her head on her palm she said, "It's over. That's all I can say now."

  "That's too bad that it had to happen."

  “I pretended. A lot, in fact. Our relationship sucked."

  "It happens to the best of us."

  She turned her head his way. "I know you went through a toughie, too."

  Charley managed a smile, though grim, nodded and said with a heavy dose of sarcasm, "I'd rather go through a level five hurricane than spend another day with that woman. She drank. It progressed over time. I couldn't handle it anymore."

  The awkward thought evolved into an even more unwieldy moment. "Have you considered finding another...?" His question stalled. Damn it. I feel uncomfortable talking about my feelings with anyone. But things needs addressed before I go on. He felt like a kite in a high wind.

  "Another man?"

  He curled a finger around a few rebellious strands of hair and attempted to draw it out of her face. "Yes."

  Realizing his question bordered on prying, he cringed, not wanting to make her mad. Damn it, going into a relationship with closed eyes isn't a smart move. "Look, I'm not good at this. I-I’m coming across like a prying you-know-what." His voice trailed away, like a jet in the sky. Severe, second thoughts bothered him. "Don't answer if you don't want."

  During a short pause, Nora looked down as she wrung her hands in her lap. "After being married for years and now being forty-one, I'm so out of the dating scene." She seemed to spit out the words. "Charley, I wouldn't know how to act with a man."

  He dragged a finger up her arm while tears welled in her eyes. "You don't have to act around me. Hold on." He went to the kitchen and brought back a Kleenex. After taking a seat he said, "Just be you."

  She regained her composure.

  There's the question I need an answer to. "What do you think about blacks living with or marrying whites...as couples, I mean?"

  Nora shrugged. "I think they're...fine." Nodding, she asked, "How do you feel about them?"

  He plucked the aluminum can off the coffee table and brought it to his mouth. "I've never thought about it, until I met you." He grinned, sipped and put the can down. "But you should know how I feel. Right?"

  "Well, yes. How do you feel?"

  "Skin color doesn't make a bit of difference to me."

  A look of relief played out in her expression. "Well, what about your friends and relatives?" she asked. "What would they say?"

  "They'll love you.”

  “And the neighbors?” she gestured with a jerk of the head to her right.

  “We’re consenting adults. Besides, it's none of their business. We're both divorced. I think they'd like us together."

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.”

  She sniffed and toyed with the tufted cording on the arm of the sofa. "It's funny..." Her words stopped and she bit her lip.

  "What is?"

  "How my AC broke down and here we are sleeping under the same roof."

  "It’s fate."

  She silenced.

  "I want to do this."

  "What?" she asked.

  "This." Tilting his head, he angled in for a kiss. “Please let me.”

  She stilled. Undeniable need glimmered in her eyes. The cushions made crunching noises as he moved. He considered her delicate features up close in the dim light. Their bodies touched and their mouths fused. Her breath smelled minty and her cologne, heavenly. They closed their eyes. His hand behind her shoulders left the cushion, rested on her shoulder and spread on the back of her neck. His fingers extended into her hair. "Mm," he murmured. His lips lifted from the kiss and lowered to her cheek. "You're so soft. I've wanted to do this since Jeff and Ruth's cookout. Maybe before that."

  "I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it, either."

  "I won't push you. Never would I try that."

  They talked a few minutes about their beliefs on religion and politics and discovered their opinions weren't too far apart. They kissed one last time.

  "Excuse me." She raised a fist to her mouth and yawned. "Well, I have to work tomorrow. I should get some sleep."

  "Me, too. I work an eight to five tomorrow."

  Soon they padded down the hallway and hesitated. "See you tomorrow, then." Longing weighed heavy in his heart. He gazed at her for a second or two before he left her. His mind remained on Nora, even after he began the nighttime ritual of going to bed.

  * * * *

  Sitting at her desk, in the empty real estate office, three days and two nights after she'd began sleeping over at Charley's house, she dialed the heating and air conditioning company's number. I'm feeling low. My breasts ache and my period's due next week. It's the dreaded PMS again.

  "Yes, this is Nora Aames. I was wondering, are you making any headway on your central air list? You see, I'm staying at the neighbo
r's house and I—"

  "Sorry, Mrs. Aames. I'll connect you with repair service station. Hold on, please."

  While the operator transferred the call, she sighed and glanced out the large paned window to the lot where her Taurus sat parked. God, I hate being stuck on hold. It's like they forget you. She saw him and her eyes widened. The mystery man sat in the front seat of a white car, reading the paper...or so she thought.

  Before the service-repair desk operator returned to the line, she mustered up the nerve to act. “I’m tired of this.” She hung up, stalked out to the car and sharply rapped on his window.

  The glass whirred as it went down. "Hello? Is there something I can help you with?"

  The sports section dropped like his mouth the moment he saw her.

  "I see you often around my home and now my workplace. What do you want?" she asked irritated.

  "I'm not spying."

  "Oh yeah?" She leaned over her arms resting on his window. "What are you doing, then?"

  "Well, maybe I am. I'm looking for Josh Aames. These are two of the places I know to look."

  She drew her hair back behind her ear and leaned on open the bottom of the window. "Why?"

  His craggy, white eyebrows drew together and he peered over his gold-rimmed glasses. He didn’t remind her of a bad guy. His jowls wobbled as he spoke and lines etched into his forehead. "I was told that maybe he'd be here or at the fifth house down in Schooner Cul De Sac."

  Her mouth dropped open for a moment. This is some of Josh's crap? Surely this guy is not a lawman. "Are you a private investigator?"

  "I'm a retired bus driver, lady,” he crabbily stated.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “This jerk borrowed,” He paused and shook his head, “actually ‘took’ is a better word, a lot of money from my niece. To make a long story short, I devote a lot of my retirement looking for this character. I hang out in places so I can nab the son of a bitch. The cops say it's a civil matter and they're not much help. One day I'll find him and ask him why he hasn't repaid this loan."

  "My neighbors are noticing that you park out in front of my house. They wonder who you are."

  "Tell them I'm sorry."

  "I don't know where he is now. We're divorced."

  "Okay, well, I’ll just ‘bide my time 'til I see him. He can't go around doing people the way he did my niece. She's not a rich person."